Right now, I’m supposed to be working on my book. I told everyone I was…turned off email, turned off IM, turned phone to ignore. Sigh. My characters hate me. That must be it. All I want them to do is to have sex. How hard is that? Seriously. I mean, SOME things ARE hard as they’re supposed to be, but can they find slot A, B, C, D, or E? No! (Yes, this is a ménage)
They just have no interest. They’ve been in foreplay mode for a week and a half. Geez! They should be in a sex-induced coma by now. Nope. Nada. Not a thing. So I blasted forward and wrote the next scene until I got to the sex again. Still, they’re resistant. The heroine could practically star in Nuns Having Fun. And the heroes. What kind of bi-sexual men are they? They’re men who hate me, that’s the answer.
If it wasn’t for the fact I need to turn in this story…oh 20 days ago, I’d deep-six the whole thing.